Tangle of Need (34 page)

Taking a seat on the bed, he put the coffee on the little side table with pretty curved legs. Her eyes locked on a droplet of water making its way down his chest, the dusky hue of his skin broken by a sprinkling of dark hair. “You missed a drop,” she said, catching it on her finger.

No laughter, his expression reserved.

Fingers curling into her palm, she allowed her hand to fall to the sheet. “This changes things, doesn’t it?” She’d known the night had been too beautiful not to, had been trying to ignore the inevitable truth, because this feeling inside of her, it was a fizzy joy she hadn’t felt for so long it wasn’t even a memory.

“Yes.” A single rough word, but his hand, it closed over her own, warm and protective.

She spread her fingers, interlocked them with his own. “Do you want to end it?” The fact it hurt her deep inside to ask that question was an unmistakable sign she’d already started to fall for this man who could never give her what she needed.

“We should stop,” Riaz said, eyes of pale brown shot with amber in the morning sunlight, “before it costs us both.”

“You’re right.”

Yet neither one of them made the move to break their physical connection. Adria’s wolf stood in silence, uncertain … scared. It was hard to admit that, to accept that in spite of her every promise to herself, Riaz had come perilously close to breaching the core she’d vowed to protect. Part of her wanted to wrench her hand from his, turn away. It would be the safer choice, allowing her to walk out of this a little bruised but heart-whole. And still…

Riaz cupped the side of her face with his free hand. “I’m a bad risk, Adria.” Raw, his soul stripped bare. “A really bad one.”

Untangling their fingers, she pushed up into a kneeling position, the sheet held to her breasts. “I’m worse.” The scars she carried were invisible, and marked her to the bone. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to trust a man with all of me ever again.” His honesty deserved her own. “I’m broken deep inside.”

Almost able to taste the intensity of her pain, Riaz curved his hand over her nape. “I swear to God, I will hunt Martin down and rip him limb from limb.”
A dominant female’s pride, her self-belief was her armor, something no male worth his salt would ever attempt to strip from her.

Startled laughter coloring the air, Adria tugged him down until their foreheads touched. “There’s no need. It took me longer than it should have, but I saw him for what he was—and I saw the mistakes I’d made, too.”

But the damage done, he thought, was nothing that would easily fade, her scars as indelible as his own. As indelible as the feminine strength that had brought her out of the darkness. His wolf, its teeth still bared, took a single step toward her, halted. He felt as if he stood on the edge of a treacherous cliff. A single wrong move could send him tumbling down into a rocky gorge, shattering his bones, his mind, his soul itself.

He’d never expected to be here, facing this moment, with any woman.

A storm cloud deep within, the shadow of a past he was determined to lay to rest threatening to darken the morning, but as strong was the knowledge that he couldn’t live in limbo forever without going mad, and that the flickering flame between him and Adria was something important, something worth fighting for.

Maybe, just maybe, two broken people could manage to create something whole. “Yes,” he said and waited, his wolf’s body quivering with a tension that kicked him in the guts with exactly how important Adria had become to him. And, his eyes on the mark he’d sucked on her neck, he knew he wasn’t going to behave and walk away if she said no.

“Yes.”

Her answer made his wolf lunge to the fore. He didn’t fight the shift, because this decision, it was as much the wolf’s as it was the man’s. A lovely woman with wide violet eyes and hair of tumbled silk was kneeling beside him when he completed the shift to pad around and take a seat on the sheets, his body pressing against her knees. An instant later, the air filled with iridescent sparks of color … to form into the shape of an elegant silver wolf with an unexpected white flash on her tail.

Shaking herself as if to settle her new skin, she lay down next to him, her muzzle on her front paws, her body half the size of his in this form.
He shifted to crowd her against the headboard. Snarling, she pricked him with her claws when he pushed too much. He nipped at her ear.

Amber eyes turned to him in a warning that had his wolf nuzzling at her with wild affection that came from the heart of the predator. She wasn’t the one who had made its soul sing in recognition when they had been in this waterlogged city before, but she was his friend, his lover, carried his scent. The wolf trusted her at his back, with its secrets, had no intention of letting her go.

IT
was late at night, well past a seven-and-a-half-year-old’s bedtime when Judd sat down next to William on a fallen log in the wooded area behind the home the boy’s family had bought on the borderline of DarkRiver and SnowDancer territory. There was no longer any need for Judd to hide his presence, his cover well and truly blown, but he made sure his visits to see William stayed covert nonetheless—the instant the vulnerable boy was associated with him, he’d become a target. There were those, Psy or not, who wouldn’t hesitate to take William, mold him into a tool of death.

Like Judd, the boy was a Tk-Cell. He could literally move cells within the body itself—which meant he could stop a heart and make it look like a natural death. Judd had had to teach William that ugly truth not only because the boy had already inadvertently killed a family pet, but also because William needed to realize and acknowledge every aspect of his ability so that he could gain control over it. However, they were taking the practical application of William’s Tk-Cell strength in a wholly new direction.

Now, reaching over, he ruffled the boy’s soft brown hair. “Bad haircut.” It was as if someone had put a bowl on top of his head and sheared around it. Crookedly.

William propped his elbows on his knees, cupping his face. “Mom.” Pure exasperation. “She says it’ll grow out, but I have to go to school!”

With enough time and effort, William could learn to morph the cells of his own body—but the skill was a difficult and enervating one even for Judd, and he was much stronger than William. “Tell everyone you did it on a dare,” he said,
opting for a much more accessible and effective solution.

A grin. “That’s smart.” His eyes went to the inside pocket of Judd’s leather-synth jacket, revealed by the way Judd had braced his forearms on his thighs. “I like chocolate.”

Judd pulled out the bar he’d picked up en route. “It’s yours if you can demonstrate your proficiency with the technique I taught you last time.”

“Like a test?”

“Yes.” Some would say the boy was too young for such things, but those people didn’t understand how a psychic loss of control could devastate. The accidental death of his pet had almost destroyed William. What would happen if he stopped his mother’s heart or gave his father a stroke?

No. Better that Judd be a harsh taskmaster—though he had no intention of treating the boy as brutally as he’d been treated as a child, until he’d broken and been re-formed into an assassin. Hence the candy bar for a reward, as recommended by Ben, his personal consultant when it came to all things concerning small children.

“Okay,” William said, jumping off the log. “I’ve been practicing.”

Putting the chocolate bar back in his pocket, Judd took out a small pocketknife. “Ready?”

William rubbed his hands down the front of his jeans, took a deep breath and said, “Yes. Go.”

“I need to monitor you telepathically.” The only time he would ever invade the boy’s mind without asking was if William lost fatal control—and William had made that request himself.

“So you can see if I’m following the correct process,” William said, his tone a perfect imitation of Judd’s when he’d spoken those words.

It made his chest grow warm, the smile building from within. “Yes.”

“Here they go.” William dropped his shields, but he was never vulnerable to an attack—Judd had already taken over the task.

“One, two, three.” He slicked the blade of the knife across his palm.

Blood welled, thick and red.

Chapter 42

IT LOOKED IMPRESSIVE,
but he’d made the cut shallow—this was about building William’s confidence in his abilities. It didn’t take long before he felt his skin begin to tingle, then tug. In front of him, William’s forehead was scrunched up, his eyes glued to the cut until Judd wasn’t sure the boy was even blinking. Sweat trickled down one temple, his small fists clenched so tight the light tan of his skin was bloodless.

Five minutes of fierce concentration later, William said, “I’m done,” and swayed on his feet.

“Sit. Drink.” He gave the boy the liter bottle of nutrient-rich sports water he’d placed by his foot. Only when William was steadier did he take a tissue from his pocket to wipe away the blood and reveal the faint pink line of a scar that looked two days old. “Very good.” He passed over the chocolate bar.

William tore off the wrapper to take a big bite. “It makes me really hungry,” he said after he’d swallowed. “And tired.”

“That’s because you’re using your psychic muscles. You need to remember to refuel and rest.” Young, his body developing, William’s psychic reserves were low. That didn’t negate his power. “You did an excellent job.”

When William beamed and leaned into him, Judd felt another one of those cracks form inside him. The ones the people he loved kept making, showing him he had the capability to feel even more than he believed.

William finished the chocolate bar and looked up. “Okay, I’m ready for the other stuff.”

The “other stuff”
was where Judd took the boy through his entire method, teaching him where he could be more efficient, stronger, or more careful. “Close your eyes and focus.” Dropping his inner shields just enough to allow William to slide into a specific part of his mind, Judd showed the boy the psychic pathway he’d taken, asked him to critique his own performance.

William was smart and motivated—an excellent student.

Well done
, he said after the boy figured out the solution to a niggling problem.
That’s enough for today. Disengage, shields up.

“I’m going to Venice,” he said when William opened his eyes. “Do you know where that is?”

“No, but I know it has water, lots of it. And funny boats.” A pause. “Is that why I had to take a nap this afternoon and meet you so late? Because you’ll be gone tomorrow?”

“Yes,” Judd said, because he didn’t lie to children. “You’re important.”

“You are, too.” William’s hug was fierce.

Judd hugged him back before escorting the boy to the edge of his parents’ property, where his mother and father sat waiting at a wooden picnic table. William ran to them, bursting to share his success. Only when the small family was safe inside the house did Judd turn and walk back into the woods … and to the men who awaited him. “Aden,” he said, finding the Arrow seated on the same log he and William had used. “Vasic.”

“We didn’t think you’d spot him,” Aden said as Vasic shifted out of the viscous shadows between the trees.

Judd took a seat beside Aden. “I’ve learned a lot about tracking from changelings.” He’d sensed Vasic’s presence because of the silence the teleporter had created in the tiny denizens of the forest.

It was Aden who next spoke, his gaze focused in the direction of the house. “The boy’s one of us.”

“Yes.”

Vasic’s next words were quiet. “I’ll keep an eye on him while you’re in Venice.”

Judd had expected nothing less. If there was one thing that held true for every Arrow he’d ever known—except Ming LeBon, and he’d never truly been one of them—it was
that they were loyal. Sometimes that loyalty was misdirected, given to those who did not deserve it, but it was never false, and never for sale. “Did you track me down for a reason?”

“We always have a reason, Judd.” Aden picked up an acorn, examined it with care. “Do you know about the others? In Venice?”

“No.” He’d never heard a hint about other rogue Arrows.

“Good. That means we succeeded.” The Arrow medic placed the acorn back on the ground.

“Size of the group?”

“A small percentage of those who officially died during missions over the past decade.”

“How?” All Arrow bodies were retrieved, death confirmed by a pathologist who wasn’t part of the squad.

“First the squad liberated certain corpses from mortuaries after they’d been processed for burial. Of the right size and height to fit an Arrow about to defect. Then the corpses were substituted in place of the Arrows in planned incidents where the bodies would be so damaged, the DNA so degraded, it wouldn’t be difficult to fool the scans. Explosions and fires.”

“Risky.” The whole thing would’ve unraveled if a conscientious scientist decided to double-check his findings before the “Arrow” body was cremated.

“Yes, but possible with the previous generation of DNA scanners,” Aden said, giving Judd another indication of the long-term nature of the plan. “The same procedure wouldn’t work now. That’s why we currently channel the majority of defectors through a facility in the Dinarides.”

The Ghost, Judd recalled, had mentioned the Dinarides facility in connection with Arrows who had been taken off Jax.

Vasic spoke on the heels of that thought. “Ming told Aden to wean the Arrows at Dinarides off Jax to see if they could be restabilized—and a few weeks later, he told his medical staff to ensure none of them ever made it out alive.”

Because Ming LeBon only wanted perfect soldiers. Fractures that couldn’t be mended or that might leave a vulnerability made a man useless to him.

“He staffed the place with non-Arrows as a check on me,” Aden added, “but he forgot I’m not just a field medic.”

Judd wondered if Aden had used the telepathic skills he’d learned from Walker to subtly influence the minds of the medical staff who may as well have been lambs led to slaughter. “No reason then for Ming to question the eventual death certificates that came out of the facility.”